The Crippled Man

Today I was feeling particularly low. I had to run by Tarjet' (Target) to pick up a wedding gift, baby gift, and birthday gift. I was so down. I have some issues in my life that are constantly on the edge of my heart. I was all inside myself, and then I saw him. There was this man who looked to be in his fifties... in a wheelchair. He was next to his car, all alone. He was attempting to open his back door but the door kept closing on him. He was trying to get his cane out of the backseat. After three tries, he had his cane. Then he had to roll backwards, unlock and open his trunk. I was just sitting there watching him, the traffic was jammed up in front of Best Buy. I kept thinking that one of the passers by that was headed to the parking lot was on their way to help him, but no one even seemed to acknowledge him, no one even saw him. He was not weak looking. He did not look out of control or helpless. I would have assumed he was helpless, but then he stood with his cane, and leaned on his car. With one hand propped himself up and then with the other hand he folded and threw his wheelchair into the back of the trunk. I was shocked. For so many reasons. No one helped him. That was the first thing that struck me as wrong. His whole situation would have been less difficult if someone had taken the time to stop and look at him, but, they truly did not notice. I was angry at those people. Then he was in his car, and looked just like every other person driving around in the parkinglot. He was crippled but now you couldn't even tell.

I thought, now that is just ironic. That man is me. Here I am in my car...all alone and sad, and feeling crippled in so many ways. I am riding around and look just like everyone else. Like the crippled man, I looked strong and in control (or at least I tried to). No one noticed me. I looked the same. I was just another shopper presumed to be doing the same thing, and on the same mission. I wanted to blend in and not look sad or like I was different, I did not want anyone to know I was hurting. But I also was needing someone so badly to see me. I needed some compassion. I had just come from a gathering, and for the most part I looked the same there too. But under my skin and in my heart I was aching. Only one person noticed, but I didn't really want them to. I wanted to look like I did not need a wheelchair. I wanted to prop myself up and get my own self to the car and drive away and look just like everyone else.

We need people to care for us and to minister to us, to be the hands and feet of Christ. to us... but we don't really want them to. .. there is a power struggle in that. If you care for me then you must be more stable, more healthy, more together, more on top of things.... more mature, more Christ-like. I don't like that. That is my pride. I truly don't feel like I am those things when I am helping others, but I am seriously suspicious of anyone who is ready to help me. I can do it on my own. I can prop myself up, I can put my own chair in the car, I can drive. I don't need your help. But, I know, getting in my car would go so much faster if someone would stop and help. Being helped, being loved or cared for, that requires humility. I have to let you in, and let my guard down. Humility is a word I use often. It is the opposite of pride. Those two things are at war within me. Self verses spirit, pride verses humility. It leaves me crippled and in need of help sometimes. But is anyone really ready... Does anyone even see me? If no one sees me, then do I have to ask, because that is humiliating. I would rather do it all myself than ask.

So what does this all mean? I really don't know. I wonder how many people are driving around, looking so OK. But they are crippled, either emotionally, spritually, or in some other way. Are we seeing them? Are we even looking? I don't want to be either of those people. I don't want to hurt. I don't want to be crippled. But I don't want to be the person that doesn't see another is hurting. I wonder sometimes, when I am not feeling crippled, if I even really care enough to look around to see what is going on in the eyes in front of me... I wonder if I am oblivious. I also wonder if being crippled... if suffering is the only real way we ever are able to see the other hurting person. I wonder.